


Muscle Memory

by emphasisonem



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Because I just want them to be a big weird family, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon Fix-It, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8663800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: “Relax, I won’t interfere,” Tony raises his hands in surrender. “Besides, it wouldn’t be that much fun. Too easy.”Bucky’s brow furrows as he glares at the older man. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Stark?”“It means that Old Glory’s in love with you too, you dope,” Tony huffs out a laugh, rising from his chair. “Or did you not notice?”   In which Tony and Bucky begin to bond when Tony finds out Bucky can cook, and the two of them prepare a Thanksgiving dinner for the other Avengers. Also, Steve gets a little bit jealous.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: _Because Bucky always helped Ma, took care of his sisters, and fed Stevie, recovering Bucky turns out to have impressive muscle memory of cooking homestyle meals. Avengers get together and Tony did NOT hire a team of chefs because Pepper would disapprove you gotta believe him...! Steve is so happy and overwhelmed by too many good things. Or, make it even more overwhelming for Steve when Bucky goes for what he wants the most - Steve._
> 
> I don't know if this is the sappiest thing I've ever written, but I feel like it's close? Hope you all like it :)

The first time Tony runs into Bucky in the kitchen in the Avengers compound, it’s the middle of the night in early November and he almost screams. Bucky’s broad-shouldered frame is imposing in the dim light, but he starts like a frightened kitten when Tony asks, “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, what are you doin’ in here at this hour?”

Bucky’s stormy eyes are wide and frightened until he registers it’s Tony. He doesn’t relax exactly, but he looks wary rather than terrified, which Tony guesses is progress. It’s not like he’s actively trying to avoid Bucky, but it’s not the easiest thing to be in the same room as the man who killed his parents, even if Tony knows it wasn’t _really_ Bucky.

Tony remembers calling Steve about a month after receiving the letter. It had taken him that long to see the situation clearly, but Steve had obviously expected he’d need more time given how surprised he’d sounded when Tony had told Steve to come back and to bring the others, Bucky included.

“I’ll protect you,” Tony had said. “Like I should have protected you all from the beginning.” And Steve had trusted him enough to come back, although Tony could tell the blond had been a little on edge about it at first. It had helped when Tony had provided his recovering best friend with a new prosthetic arm so that Bucky could go about his day-to-day tasks a little more easily.

It had taken months of lawyers negotiating and more money than Tony will ever admit to any of them, but he’d finally gotten the United States government off their backs. For the time being, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs with eyes downcast, drawing Tony from his thoughts. “I couldn’t sleep and this-” Bucky gestures around at the ingredients, pots and pans laid out on the countertop- “Cooking- it relaxes me, I guess.”

“Really?” Tony asks, walking slowly into the room and seating himself at the kitchen table. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the cooking type, Barnes.”

Bucky shrugs, the ghost of a smile on his face. “It’s one of the only normal things I remember how to do. Muscle memory or somethin’, I guess. I used to help my ma with the cookin’. I had four little sisters; lotta mouths to feed. Then, when I got older and moved out, I had Steve to take care of.”

Bucky actually snorts out a little laugh and shakes his head, “Guy couldn’t cook worth a damn; Stevie probably woulda burned water if I’d let him near the stove.”

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline; Steve almost never talks about his past, so what Tony does know is based on all the stories of the great war hero his father told him. Nothing so personal, so human, as what Bucky’s just revealed.

“Stevie, huh?” Tony chuckles, leaning back in the chair with a smile. It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Bucky seems to be blushing. “How hard do you think he’d hit me if I tried to call him that?”

“I think if you’re gonna try it-” Bucky smirks, and the half-smile actually reaches his eyes for once- “You oughta put on that fancy metal suit of yours first.”

Tony barks out a laugh at that, smiling at the pleased look on Bucky’s face. “You’re actually kind of funny, Barnes. Now, if this whole cookin’ thing is gonna stick, we’re gonna need to make that-” Tony points at his left arm- “Completely flame-retardant.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s getting himself a glass of water about two weeks after his conversation with Stark when Pepper and Tony walk into the kitchen. The redhead is talking a mile a minute as always, clipboard in hand as her heels click across the tile flooring.

“And you are _not_ hiring a professional team of chefs for Thanksgiving, Tony, come on,” Pepper sounds exhausted and more than a little frustrated, Bucky thinks. It’s a struggle not to laugh when Tony rolls his eyes as he leans against one of the counters.

“What, like I can’t afford it?” Tony snarks, lips curling into a smirk as he surveys his ex. “It’s only money, Pep.”

“That’s not the point,” Pepper sighs, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Thanksgiving isn’t about perfect gourmet food; it’s about being thankful for what we have.”

“Why can’t I be thankful for the gourmet food?” Tony complains. “And, what, do _you_ want to come over and cook a meal for what-” Tony counts quickly on his fingers- “Ten or so people? Maybe more? Because I sure as hell don’t want to cook for that many people.”

Both of them jump when Bucky clears his throat, then says, “I’ll do it.”

“Jesus Christ, Barnes, am I gonna have to put a goddamn bell on you?” Tony exhales, but the older man is smiling. “And thank you, but you should relax on Thanksgiving.”

“Cooking _does_ relax me, remember?” Bucky replies, gesturing around the kitchen. “Only normal thing I still remember how to do, if you recall.”

“Bucky, that’s very nice of you to volunteer,” Pepper replies, green eyes soft. “But maybe we should just hire somebody after all. We wouldn’t want to overtax you.”

“Pepper,” Tony sighs. “The man says it helps him relax. He’ll be fine. Hell, I’ll even volunteer to be your sous chef on Thanksgiving day,” Tony says, turning toward Bucky. “Do some chopping, some mixing, mostly stay the hell out of your way. What do you say?”

Bucky nods, grinning at the perplexed look on Pepper’s face as her gaze shifts back and forth between the two of them. “Well, then. It seems I’ve been overruled,” she sighs.

“First time for everything, Pep,” Tony chuckles, winking at Bucky as he leads the redhead from the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?” Tony quirks a brow, smiling at Bucky from his seat across the kitchen table. The two of them had waited until everyone else in the compound had gone off to bed and then proceeded to plan the Thanksgiving meal they’d be serving the following week.

Bucky crosses his arms against the table and leans forward a little, chuckling as Tony’s eyes narrow when the joints whir and click beneath the synthetic skin.

“I’ll fix that, don’t worry,” the dark-haired man murmurs as he jots down a note on their Thanksgiving list.

“Thanks,” Bucky replies. “And yeah, you can ask, but I can’t guarantee I’m gonna wanna answer it.”

“That’s fair,” Tony nods, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Although, I feel like if you don’t answer the question, you’re kind of answering it anyway-”

“Will you just _ask?”_ Bucky groans, dropping his head into his arms with a sigh.

“Are you in love with Steve?”

The brunet’s reaction is near-instantaneous. Bucky’s head snaps up, his blue-gray eyes wide with surprise. A pink blush begins to stain the other man’s cheeks, and it takes every ounce of Tony’s restraint not to bust out laughing.

“What-” Bucky rasps, clearing his throat and then continuing. “What makes you think that I’m in love with him?”

“Oh geez, I don’t know,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Maybe the way you gravitate toward him no matter what else is going on. It’s like watching a moon orbit a fucking planet, Barnes, and I’m fairly well-versed in astronomy, so I know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“What are you _not_ well-versed in?” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

“Don’t interrupt,” Tony grins. “You also light up whenever you see him. It’s actually kind of cute how you can’t really take your eyes off him. Makes me wanna play matchmaker, to be honest.”

“Tony-” Bucky warns, and it’s practically a growl. Considering the brunet is basically crimson now, it does nothing but make Tony chuckle.

“Relax, I won’t interfere,” Tony raises his hands in surrender. “Besides, it wouldn’t be that much fun. Too easy.”

Bucky’s brow furrows as he glares at the older man. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Stark?”

“It means that Old Glory’s in love with you too, you dope,” Tony huffs out a laugh, rising from his chair. “Or did you not notice?”

Considering the shock on Bucky’s face, Tony figures it’s safe to say that he didn’t.

“Well,” Tony shrugs, backing out of the room. “I’d love to keep chatting, but I’ve gotta hit the hay, early day tomorrow. You process that, and if you want help wooing your fella, or however you old-timers say it, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

“Steve’s the one thing that always cuts through the bullshit,” Bucky says without any prompting from Tony a few nights before Thanksgiving. Tony’d been unable to sleep, but the smell of brownies had drawn him from his lab and into the kitchen. Seeing Bucky sitting at the kitchen table waiting for them to finish baking hadn’t been much of a surprise.

“What do you mean?” Tony asks, looking up from the book he’s been reading while they wait, his brow furrowed.

“I mean, most of what’s in my head is still pretty foggy,” Bucky explains, looking down at his hands which are clasped tightly together on the kitchen table. “I can’t get at a lot of it, and tryin’ to usually just leaves me more confused and gives me a headache. I do it anyway. But Steve’s not foggy. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Tony replies, the image of a laughing Pepper floating through his own mind. “Yeah, I think I kind of do.”

Bucky nods, rising when the timer for the brownies goes off, and Tony figures that must have been the brunet’s way of telling him that, yes, he is in love with Steve Rogers.

Tony smiles, the gears in his head turning as his eyes return to the words on the page before him.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Steve looks steadily over his coffee cup, waiting for Tony’s dark eyes to meet his own. “You’ve been spending a fair amount of time with Bucky lately.”

“Workin’ on that arm of his,” Tony replies, turning the page of his newspaper, eyes scanning the headlines for anything of interest. “You know how prototypes can be; gotta work out the kinks.”

Tony winks at him, then, a sly smile on his face, and Steve can feel a flush spreading across his cheeks and working its way down his neck at the innuendo.

“Bucky’s in a very vulnerable place right now, Tony,” Steve grits out, hand tightening around his mug. “Doesn’t need you workin’ out any kinks.”

“Careful, Rogers,” Tony chuckles as he folds his newspaper, placing it under his arm as he rises from the table. “People will start to think you’re jealous.”

And then Tony’s sauntering away as Steve fumes silently, angry that he can’t formulate a response that won’t prove the other man’s point.

Because that’s exactly what Steve is right now. Jealous.

 

* * *

 

Steve meanders out into the kitchen a little later than he usually does Thanksgiving morning, rubbing bleary blue eyes as he shuffles across the tile floor to get the coffee pot started.

What he finds has him stumbling back a few steps because it’s just not computing, but at the same time it’s such a familiar sight it makes his heart ache. Bucky’s at the stove, moving from pot to pot as he observes and stirs, the savory smell of a turkey already in the oven permeating the air. The brunet’s humming softly to himself as he works; it sounds like an old Glenn Miller tune.

Tony’s sitting at the kitchen table with Pepper, the two of them chopping vegetables and conversing quietly. Steve can’t help but smile at that. Tony’s been something of a wreck without Pepper, and he’s hoping the two of them can work things out before Christmas.

“Steve!” Pepper exclaims when she looks up, a wide smile on her pretty face. “Good morning! Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too, Pepper,” Steve grins. “Tony, Bucky, good mornin’.”

“Heya, Capsicle,” Tony smirks, winking as he nods toward Bucky who is standing silently by the stove, a wary expression on his handsome face. “Your boy requested we let’m make Thanksgiving dinner this year. Smells great so far, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, his voice soft and far away in his own ears as he stares at his friend. Bucky looks more relaxed than Steve’s seen him in months, jeans and a thick green sweater hanging from his impressive frame, which for once isn’t hard with tension, his hair braided back away from his face. It’s breathtaking. “Yeah, it smells great.”

Bucky smiles shyly, looking up at Steve through dark lashes before turning back to the stove.

Steve settles into a chair once he’s fixed his coffee, sapphire eyes following Bucky’s every move. Steve can hardly breathe as he watches his best friend prepare the food, and he can’t help but remember the way he used to gaze at Bucky in their shitty tenement apartment in Brooklyn, the same longing in his heart as he’d watch the brunet fix them dinner.

Steve has to excuse himself, mumbling something about a shower, because the sight of Bucky so content, so at peace, coupled with the smell of his delicious cooking, has Steve on the verge of tears. The happy kind, sure, but he doesn’t want to distract Bucky from something that sets him at ease. Not after all he’s been through.

 

* * *

 

The table is laden with more food than the people assembled can eat, which Tony thinks is saying something considering they’ve got quite a crowd. Of course, Wanda, Vision, Sam and Rhodey are present, the four of them laughing softly as they sip their wine and wait for dinner to begin. Natasha and Laura are making their way back from the kid’s table where Laura and Clint’s children are giggling as they begin to eat. Clint watches them from the adult’s table with a small smile, sharp eyes so much softer than they usually are. Even Maria is here, following Tony out into the dining room along with Bucky and Pepper as the four of them set the last of the warm dishes and platters down.

They all take their seats, then, except for Tony who simply lifts his wineglass and clears his throat.

“I have no doubt you’re all dying to dig in,” Tony grins, gesturing at the table. “And that you have no interest in listening to me blather like an idiot as I am so wont to do.”

“Get to the point, _Stank_ ,” Rhodey snarks, and Sam nearly chokes on a sip of his wine as he snickers.

“That being said,” Tony continues, smirking at his friend. “I wanted to say a quick thank you. Of course, I’m thankful for all of you, but in particular I want to thank Bucky for cooking this feast and for trusting a man who routinely sets fires in his lab to help him prepare it.”

Bucky blushes and smiles as everyone laughs, the flush deepening as Steve reaches over to squeeze his shoulder, leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

“And that’s all I have to say today,” Tony grins, raising his glass. “To everyone at this table, Happy Thanksgiving and thank you for being here. Enjoy.”

 

* * *

 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was cookin’ dinner?” Steve asks as he and Tony clear the plates from the table while everyone else curls up in the living room to watch a movie. “And that you were helpin’? I’d’ve helped.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Tony replies, setting the dishes in the sink to soak. “But he told me that back in the old days, you could’ve burned water, so we both thought it would be best not to mention it. Besides, he wanted to surprise you.”

Steve can feel his eyes widening as he asks, “You guys talk about me?”

“You’re his best friend, Rogers,” Tony rolls his eyes as he leans back against the counter. “Of course we talk about you. And I promise, it’s only ever good stuff.”

“I’m just,” Steve hesitates for a moment, trying to find a way to phrase what he’s thinking without sounding callous. “I’m surprised. That you two are getting along.”

Tony shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Kind of hard not to like the guy once you get to know him. Even harder to believe a man like him would take out my parents if he’d had any control of himself back then. I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s still hard to look at him some days, but I’m tryin’.”

And just like that, there’s a lump in Steve’s throat and unshed tears pooling in his eyes. Tony looks startled by it, reaching out to place a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey,” Tony murmurs. “Knock that off. Don’t make me regret this greeting card moment by starting to weep, Rogers.”

Steve exhales a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I just. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony replies with a smile. “He really is a good guy, Steve. I can see why you’re so gone on him.”

“You can-” Steve stammers, and he figures he’s gotta be roughly the shade of a tomato now- “What?”

“Rogers, don’t insult my intelligence,” Tony sighs with a grin. “You should probably talk to him. I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”

“So you’re not?” Steve asks, shaking his head. “You’re not interested in him?”

“Of course not, Rogers,” Tony scoffs, pushing off of the counter and striding toward the dining room table. “My heart belongs to a fetching redhead, and not even Bucky Barnes could steal it away.”

“So, when you were talking about working out kinks and then winked at me?” Steve narrows his eyes as he addresses the older man, following him out of the kitchen. “What was that?”

“I was trying to get your dense, nonagenarian ass in gear, Rogers,” Tony chuckles. “Why I thought something so subtle might work, I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

“Come in,” Bucky calls when there’s a soft knock at his door later that night. Bucky’s full and sleepy and content, and he can’t think of any way this Thanksgiving could have been better.

Well, he amends that thought as Steve pushes his door open, a gentle smile on his face as he slips into Bucky’s bedroom, maybe he can think of _one_ way.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve waves, eyes drifting down to his shoes before meeting Bucky’s again. The brunet’s a little surprised at the shyness in Steve’s demeanor, but he tries not to read too much into it.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky grins sitting down cross legged on his bed and patting the spot in front of him. “Feel like I barely got to talk to you today will all that cookin’. Happy Thanksgivin’, pal.”

“You too,” Steve smiles, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture Bucky remembers from their youth. Bucky itches to reach out and take that hand, to hold it in his own, to reassure Steve even though he’s not sure what’s got his friend on edge.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were cookin’ again?” Steve asks, blue eyes narrowed, and suddenly it all makes sense, and Bucky wants to laugh, but he somehow keeps it from bubbling up out of his throat.

“Didn’t want you hoverin’ every time I got near a stove, Stevie,” Bucky smiles. “You’ve got kind of a mother hen routine goin’ right now. Not that I mind or anythin’, I just didn’t want you worryin’. And I knew you would, ‘specially if you knew I was cookin’ for the holiday.”

“I just worry about you in higher stress situations,” Steve replies, shoulders slumping. “Thanksgiving dinner can be a lot of pressure, you know?”

“I know,” Bucky nods. “That’s why Tony and Pepper offered to help.”

“I wish you had asked me,” Steve smiles sadly. “I was startin’ to worry you were replacin’ me. Spendin’ all that time with Stark.”

Bucky barks out a laugh, leaning forward to take one of Steve’s hands. “Now you’re just bein’ ridiculous. I thought you’d be happy the two of us weren’t avoidin’ each other anymore?”

“I am, I just,” Steve huffs, and Bucky likes the way Steve’s cheeks are beginning to pink, the way he’s shifting nervously on the bed. Because maybe Tony’s right. Maybe Steve feels the same way as Bucky does and was just -

“Steve,” Bucky smirks, squeezing the blond’s hand. “Were you _jealous?”_

“What?” Steve bleats, eyes flashing with panic as they snap up to meet Bucky’s. “Of course I wasn’t- that’s absolutely- I can’t believe you would-”

“Because if you were-” Bucky purrs, shifting until they’re sitting side by side, and then reaching out to cup Steve’s chin in his hand- “I’d like to tell you that you _really_ don’t need to be, pal. Because nobody in the world could ever replace you.”

“Buck?” Steve’s voice is a little breathless, his pretty, pink lips parting as he looks into Bucky’s eyes.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, nuzzling his nose against the blond’s and reveling in the hitch of his breath. “You really are the densest man alive, didja know that?”

And then Bucky closes the gap between them, sealing their lips in a gentle kiss.

 

* * *

 

Steve can still remember what an asthma attack feels like. Bucky’s lips on his don’t have him fighting for air in quite the same way - this is _much_ more pleasant for starters - but it’s similar enough to have Steve gasping into his friend’s mouth.

Bucky, sly dog that he is, takes advantage of that immediately, curling his tongue against Steve’s own. Steve would be laughing at his friend’s brazen behavior if he weren’t moaning and tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair, pressing ever closer to the other man.

The kiss is everything Steve’s imagined it would be, everything he’s hoped and dreamed about ever since he’d found his Bucky again. His breath hitches on a sob as Bucky breaks the kiss, then pulls the blond into his arms.

“Steve, Stevie, hey,” Bucky whispers, rubbing soothing circles against his back. Steve can hear the thickness in Bucky’s voice, the tears in the back of the brunet’s throat that Bucky’s fighting. “Shhh, doll, I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes out, laughing even as tears stream down his face. “I just. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I’m so _happy.”_

Bucky’s eyes are misty as he reaches to wipe the tears from Steve’s cheeks, his lips following the trail of his fingers. Steve thinks his heart stops for a moment as Bucky whispers, “I love you,” against his overheated skin.

“I love you too,” Steve breathes, blown away by the sunny smile on Bucky’s face. Steve laughs as he brushes a stray strand of hair from Bucky’s face, saying, “God, I’m sorry, I messed up your braid.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky chuckles, pulling the elastic from his hair and shaking it out. The brunet grabs Steve’s hands and pulls them toward his head, humming as Steve catches on and runs his fingers through the dark strands. “I’ll teach you how if you want. Bet you’d be good at it.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, smiling, breath catching in his throat as Bucky’s eyes darken and his mouth curls into a smirk.

“‘Course-” Bucky rasps, pulling Steve close and capturing the blond’s plush bottom lip between his teeth and sucking it until Steve whines high in the back of his throat. “I’d like to teach you a few other things first.”

“Yes,” Steve gasps, breathless as he pushes a giggling Bucky back against the mattress. “Teach me everything you know.”

This is, Steve thinks as the two of them lie curled against each other a little later, Bucky’s warm skin so soft and comforting against his own, easily the best Thanksgiving he’s ever had.

He supposes he owes Tony a thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Also, I keep forgetting to mention that I have a [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/). It's mostly reblogs of Stucky gifsets, photosets, fanart, etc., but it's also the easiest place to request a fic if you want one. And I generally follow back as long as you're not a pornbot lol.


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